Kaufman Updates
Permanent link for Michigan Listens, Reflections | By Multiple Contributors on November 18, 2025
Michigan Listens brought together 9 distinct voices from around the state of Michigan to tell stories informed by their values. Each speaker walked up to the podium in silence, saying their part and walking back to their seat among the audience who held their applause until the final speaker had finished.
The following are guests reflections on the event:
"On November 5 I had the honor to go to the event Michigan Listens. This was a space where nine people from all around Michigan got to tell their story. The unique part about this event was that there was no clapping, cheering, booing or any sort of reaction from the crowd while the speakers were telling their story. Michigan Listens was very unique to any other kind of space I have been in. As someone that is not originally from Michigan it was very interesting for me to hear the diversity that the state holds. One thing I appreciated about this space was how it allowed me to engage with stories that I might not typically listen to. I noticed that a lot of my circles tend to be people that have similar beliefs to me. That is why I purposely enter spaces such as Michigan Listens or the work I do with Kaufman where I engage with diverse perspectives. It allows me to grow as a person and break down so many stereotypes that I hold about others. I also really enjoyed hearing about the different ways that someone could be present in their community. Each person that went up to speak had different strengths and ways that they showed up for the people they care about. Overall all of these people had a message to tell and I feel a sense of gratitude that they shared even just a small part of their story."
- Molly Schless, Kaufman Interfaith Leadership Cohort Member
"One of the most sacred and important aspects of storytelling is the part where we listen. The Michigan Listens’ event re-centered the practice of listening for a night. I’ve found myself at several points since the event paying attention to how I am listening to others stories.
For myself, the instruction to refrain from clapping after each speaker was very moving. The speakers walked off in a thoughtful silence. That silence allowed time for the audience to consider what they learned, find themes across the speakers, celebrate vulnerability, mourn, and reflect on where they saw themselves in a given story. And sometimes that silence can say more than any words. "
- Joshua Polanski, Director of Engagement, Interfaith Photovoice
"Michigan Listens was an overwhelming experience. The structure and intention of the event made it so that there was only silence in between nine speakers - no applause or conversation - and in that silence, their messages truly sank in. I am a person who greatly appreciates moments of pause to process, and in a formal conversation space like this, that opportunity is rare. One of the lines that stuck with me the most was from Noah Prysock, a student from Battle Creek, who spoke profoundly on his experience in higher education and the importance of having a mentor. “She saw me though I couldn’t see myself,” he said. I felt that line in my gut. In working with students every day, I only hope I can do the same - to be someone, maybe the only someone in that student’s life, that truly sees them sitting across from me. I was inspired by Noah and his commitment to be that one person for someone else, and I will remember his reflection for a long time to come."
- Liz English, Campus Program Manager, Kaufman Interfaith Institute
"As a high school student, with every class I take, every extracurricular activity I join, and every conversation I have with a peer across the lunch table, I am always seeking new experiences to prepare me for the real world. Michigan Listens was the most comprehensive collection of stories I have ever had the opportunity of witnessing. The event was a representation of the various cultures, upbringings, occupations, and lifestyles that make up our diverse Michigan community. Whether it was a City Manager from the Upper Peninsula or a domestic abuse survivor from the Detroit Metro area, each speaker had a unique story to share and, just as importantly, a platform where they could be heard without judgement. Michigan Listens reminded me that despite the different experiences we are guided by in our daily life, we are all working towards a common future for all of us to thrive in."
- Krishna Mano, Kaufman Interfaith Leadership Scholar
Posted on Permanent link for Michigan Listens, Reflections | By Multiple Contributors on November 18, 2025.
Permanent link for Interfaith Leadership Cohorts Travel to Mid-Michigan | By Rachel Robinson on October 21, 2025
Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign. But stories can also be used to empower, and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people. But stories can also repair that broken dignity.
- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, “The Danger of a Single Story”
Often, we don’t take enough time to learn the stories of our friends and neighbors. Something that stayed with me from our most recent trip with the Interfaith Leadership cohorts came from our Native American guide, Anita Heard, Research Center Coordinator at the Ziibiwing Center of Anishinabe Culture and Lifeways in Mt. Pleasant, Michigan. She said,
“Stories are a gift. They are a way of connecting us with each other, caring for one another, and learning from each other. Each of us has a story—a gift—to share.”
Stories truly are gifts. They allow us to understand others, build compassion, learn the history of the places we inhabit, and cultivate curiosity. But stories aren’t always hopeful, joyful, or positive. Sometimes they are ugly, uncomfortable, and some invoke rage. Sometimes they interrupt stereotypes and implicit biases, offering power and voice to those who have been harmed or forgotten.
On Tuesday, October 14th, our Interfaith Leadership cohorts traveled to mid-Michigan to hear the stories of two communities: the Anishinabe people of Michigan - more specifically, the Saginaw Chippewa Indian Tribe of Michigan - and and African Americans whose lives and identities have been shaped and misrepresented by Jim Crow, whose experiences have shaped—and been shaped by—this nation’s complex history.
At the Ziibiwing Center of Anishinabe Culture and Lifeways, we were able to hear and honor the stories that have been silenced for generations. It was a reminder of the deep harm caused when a community is no longer the author of its own story—and also of the beauty and resilience found in reclaiming it. To listen is to witness both pain and revival: the revitalization of language, ceremony, and self-definition. Imagine losing the stories that connect you to your identity, your history, and your community. For Native American communities, including the Anishinaabe, this loss was not by choice. It came through forced assimilation, boarding schools, and the erasure of language, traditions, and spiritual practices. We listened intently to various stories of this community and something that was shocking was that for some of their documents to be legalized, the community has to wait twenty-five years before they can even be accepted as official. Did you catch that? Twenty-five years. Have you ever played the game of telephone? Imagine how much detail—how much heart and soul—is lost in a story passed down over that kind of time. In twenty-five years, how many voices are silenced by death, how much wisdom fades away? I can’t help but wonder if those in power counted on that silence, if they hoped the stories would be forgotten before they were ever recognized. And yet—how strong, how resilient, how steadfast must a community be to hold onto its story through all of that? What does it mean to protect the memory of your people for twenty-five years, waiting for the world to finally listen?
Another moment that stood out to me was the very cadence of Anita’s storytelling. It was slow—intentional—and at times, it was hard to stay invested. Not because of a lack of patience or interest, but because I’ve been conditioned to crave more, quicker, faster. I live in a rhythm of constant motion, of checking boxes and chasing efficiency. But just because something is slower doesn’t make it less meaningful. In fact, it had the opposite effect—it drew me in deeper. It gave me space to sit with wonder, curiosity, and awe. I want to retrain myself to stay engaged with stories like these, to move at the pace of reverence rather than productivity. When I rush, I notice how easily I can miss what is vital—what is sacred.
After hearing stories reclaimed at the Ziibiwing Center, our visit to the Jim Crow Museum of Racist Memorabilia revealed the other side of storytelling—the weaponization of narrative. Here, stories were twisted into stereotypes, used to justify oppression and normalize cruelty. It showed how powerful storytelling can be, both in necessary unearthing and its potential to harm. I knew it would make me angry, but I wasn’t prepared for how heavy it would feel. Through caricatures, propaganda, and everyday objects, I saw how narratives were distorted to dehumanize Black Americans and uphold systems of white supremacy. Every object, every caricature, every relic of hate carried a story that someone once believed to be normal. I was confronted with how deeply racism was—and still is—woven into the fabric of our nation’s story. This confrontation brought to the surface the deep injustice of having one’s story told, twisted, or controlled by others. The museum forced me to think about how privilege is not just about opportunity, but about authorship. The freedom to exist without explanation, to tell your own story in your own voice, is one of the most profound privileges there is. That realization sat heavily with me as we stepped outside those museum doors, the air thick with silence and reflection. In processing together, the words that surfaced were: powerful, useful, heavy, contextualizing, necessary. Each of us carried something different away, but those five words seemed to echo what storytelling had done to me—it changed me. It opened me. It reminded me that listening is not passive; it’s an act of witness and responsibility.
Stories stay with us. They change how we see ourselves, each other, and the world we’re part of. They make us ask questions—hard ones, important ones. So, what does it mean to be the author of your own story? What story would you tell about your community if you were the one holding the pen? And perhaps most importantly—how will you listen differently after hearing someone else’s truth? What I have learned so far is that stories are not just memories; they’re acts of agency, connection, and hope. Marshall Ganz said it best in People, Power, Change: “What is utterly unique about each of us is not a combination of the categories that include us, but rather the meaning we give to our own journey, our way through life, our personal text from which each of us can teach.” I am learning that the stories we choose to tell—and the ones we choose to listen to—hold the power to transform how we act, connect, and understand each other.
Permanent link for Setting the Table for Listening Across Michigan | By Kyle Kooyers, Director of Operations, Kaufman Interfaith Institute, and Lisa Perhamus, Director, Padnos/Sarosik Center for Civil Discourse on September 23, 2025
Now, more than ever, it feels as though we are at an impasse of listening and understanding. The competing narratives of our current political and social landscape have deepened animosity and amplified bias as we struggle to make sense of our neighbors’ views of the world. That is precisely why the Kaufman Interfaith Institute values our ongoing collaboration with the Padnos/Sarosik Center for Civil Discourse, Hauenstein Center for Presidential Studies, and WGVU Public Media on Talking Together: Strengthening Our Communities Through Conversation.
This dialogue initiative was designed to interrupt polarization and foster a culture of conversation on campus and in surrounding communities. The collaboration began in 2022-2023 as a year-long Grand Valley Presidential Initiative with a number of opportunities for students, faculty, staff, and community members to engage in conversation with one another across differences in perspective, identity, and life experiences.
This year, we are returning to build upon those foundational strategies and techniques from Year One by intentionally leaning into spaces of deep listening and storytelling from a multiplicity of perspectives. We are excited to be working with our Talking Together partners on piloting a statewide depolarizing project called Michigan Listens. This initiative aims to amplify the values and lived experiences of everyday Michiganders through storytelling.
The stories from around our state are vast, varied, and dynamic. Michigan Listens spotlights stories of Michiganders who represent a range of geographies, ideologies, identities, life experiences, and vocations, bringing them together for an evening of storytelling that collectively represents pure Michigan.
As speakers share their stories, the audience listens deeply, remaining silent throughout the event. Without the distraction of talking or clapping, the listening of this event seeks to remind people of and center them in each other’s humanity.
After the storytelling, listeners and speakers share a family-style dinner together. As people share this meal and pass dishes between them, conversations about the impact of listening to each other as Michiganders round out the evening.
Michigan Listens is inspired and supported by Boise State University’s Idaho Listens project, with additional support from GVSU’s Office of the President. The limited audience for this initiative is being carefully curated to reflect the geographical regions of our state, the communities of our speakers, and the core intention of cultivating a space that centers listening over debate. For those who are interested in watching or hearing what is shared, we will be posting a recording of Michigan Listens shortly after the gathering.
Posted by Elamin Gasim Ibrahim Gasim on Permanent link for Setting the Table for Listening Across Michigan | By Kyle Kooyers, Director of Operations, Kaufman Interfaith Institute, and Lisa Perhamus, Director, Padnos/Sarosik Center for Civil Discourse on September 23, 2025.
Permanent link for Kicking Off the Cohorts: Diving Deep and Coming Up For Air | By the Kaufman Program Staff on September 23, 2025
What is the earliest story you can remember? What stories do we retell within our families, with our friends, in our professional circles, even to ourselves, that shape our being and becoming? Would one of your early stories be rooted in your religious or spiritual tradition? Maybe it had a moral lesson that has stuck with you as a core value you hold to this day. Maybe past or current traumas interrupt those memories or even prevent you from knowing certain parts of yourself. As we seek to advance interfaith understanding we must begin with the self - knowing, understanding, and loving ourselves before we can hope to know, understand, and love another.
Our Interfaith Leadership Cohorts scratched the surface of this heart work at our Kick Off Retreat on the lakeshore two weeks ago. The Kaufman staff facilitated foundational conversations to create brave spaces of growth for the year ahead, all held together with the glue of camaraderie and a bit of good ol’ goofiness. Between meaningful explorations of our spiritual and religious heritage, an initial foray into “the story of me,” we broke bread together, we felt the sand between our toes, we played games and held on to the joy that keeps us going. Because tackling big questions requires equal time devoted to big belly laughs.
“The earliest story” prompt is where we started. That grew into conversations about each other’s histories, backgrounds, worldviews, identities, values, beliefs, challenges, and more. We paused to assess which of our predecessors had made an impact on our lives today, inspired by an exercise of Valarie Kaur’s which situates us firmly as the link between the wisdom and courage of our ancestors and the future we envision. We practiced honoring the difficulty this exercise can unearth. Why was storytelling difficult for some? Do I feel safe enough to share? Who holds the power to tell our story? What story am I choosing to tell at this moment?
With the tough work of sharing our stories behind us and vulnerability settling in, the strangers or acquaintances we sat with now knew us more deeply than we might have expected at the start of the day. We fell back on one of the first ways to form bonds with others, through play, to soothe that vulnerability. So we made kabobs and played badminton. We played together, engaging in the most innate form of community building, present in all of us from our childhood days. Because only with a lungful of air can we hope to dive deeper.
As we look to the coming year, as we tell our stories together and build a narrative of community within our community of narrative, we hope to continue the cycle of vulnerability, learning, and coming up for air whenever necessary.
Permanent link for Leading for Shared Purpose in the Face of Uncertainty | By Kyle Kooyers, Director of Operations on August 19, 2025
As we prepare to embark on another academic year, we’ve been spending much time dwelling in the wisdom of author, researcher, teacher, and social movement guru, Marshall Ganz. If you haven’t done so already, I’d encourage you to read my colleague Liz English’s reflection on our theme for this year . But one specific insight of his, that I want to lay before you, is his definition of leadership. For Ganz, “Leadership is accepting responsibility to create conditions that enable others to achieve shared purpose in the face of uncertainty.”
Now, as we take stock of our present, highly polarized moment as a country, an audacious goal like “enable others to achieve shared purpose in the face of uncertainty” would seem both desperately needed and entirely doubtful. Of that statement, only the uncertainty piece feels realistic or, frankly, certain. But interfaith leadership has never been for the faint of heart, nor is it ever unilateral when it comes to matters like discerning purpose. To that end, what most intrigues me is the notion that leaders accept responsibility, not to achieve the work themselves, but to create conditions for that work, that transformation, to take place collectively alongside their neighbors.
That “responsibility to create conditions” could very well be the motto of the Kaufman Interfaith Institute. In the time that I’ve worked here, I’ve seen some incredible relationships, partnerships, and programs emerge because the right interfaith conditions were created for a beautiful groundswell of community: deep listening tours transforming into Congregational Partnerships; youth groups visiting each other's houses of worship transforming into Interfaith Service Day Camps; relationships with agencies welcoming New Americans transforming into an International and Interfaith Concert centering the languages spoken by unaccompanied minors.
From the very beginning, Kaufman Interfaith Institute’s programming and impact have excelled when it has empowered grassroots energy and initiatives from our students and community members. Often, this has taken the form of various leadership councils, committees, and task forces that have invested in and developed the shape and focus of interfaith work. I remain convinced that it is the “secret sauce” of everything we do here. If we can create healthy spaces for people to meet, to hear one another’s stories, to hold hope, fear, joy, and rage, then our combined creativity and compassion will thrive.
Recognizing this, the Kaufman Institute is returning to this model as we center leadership development at all age levels of our program this coming fall. We have an audacious goal of creating a multi-generational interfaith leadership development program where community leaders, high school students, and university students will explore new horizons for human connection, interfaith understanding, and collective transformation. This will take place through three emerging Interfaith Leadership Cohorts.
On the community side of things, the Kauman Associates are a relatively small group of leaders from diverse religious traditions who are committed to advancing the mission of the Institute. They provide insight into the realities facing their communities, serve as facilitators of Kaufman programming, and act as ambassadors for the Institute out in the community. Our dream is for this cohort to be a means of a deeper relationship with the wonderful religious, secular, and spiritual communities that have always been such incredible partners in this work.
Switching to High School, now in its seventh year, the Interfaith Leadership Scholars program continues to train middle and high school students from the greater Grand Rapids area to become activators of the interfaith movement. Each cohort draws students from a half-dozen school districts and numerous worldview traditions. Their end-of-year project brings together community leaders to explore and act on an issue or topic they identify. Our dream is for this cohort to be the next generation of peace-builders and justice-seekers, as they bring us into the realities they face every day at school, clubs, sports, and in the arts.
And, it is with great excitement that we round out our cohorts back here at GVSU. Building upon our former Interfaith Student Council, the Campus Interfaith Leadership Cohort builds interfaith relationships on campus through spaces of deep dialogue, story-sharing, and mutual respect. Drawing from our newly created leadership development curriculum and some exciting educational travel opportunities, our dream for this cohort is to build a vibrant and inclusive campus community where Lakers from all religious, secular, and spiritual backgrounds can learn, share, and grow.
We are taking up this responsibility - to create conditions for others to achieve shared purpose, to cultivate a shared narrative of critical hope, precisely because we are staring in the face of uncertainty. In each other, we find resilience. In each other, we find the path forward.
We love to train young leaders, giving them the resources and platform of the Kaufman Institute so that they can offer their voice, vision, and initiatives to our campus and the broader community. We are uniquely situated here at Grand Valley State University to deploy our gifts—our physical space, funding, communication mechanisms, technology, programming, and guiding principles—to create conditions for grass-roots engagement and community partnerships, under the leadership of our students, to engage the urgent issues and concerns of our community. In so doing, we can collectively find hope in the shared purpose of a vibrant, pluralistic democracy beginning right here in West Michigan.
“Go to the people. Live with them. Learn from them. Love them. Start with what they know. Build with what they have. But with the best leaders, when the work is done, the task accomplished, the people will say 'We have done this ourselves.”
Lao Tzu
Permanent link for The Story of Me. The Story of Us. The Story of Now. | By Liz English, Campus Program Manager on August 19, 2025
Each of us carries a story.
That story is shaped by innumerable factors - family, culture, beliefs, communities, social context, even fleeting interactions with strangers - moments, often small but powerful, that conjure emotions of pride, pain, belonging, fear, joy, and wonder. These moments come together to shape who we are, what we value, and how we show up in the world. Stories help us to explain our ‘why’ - why do I care about this particular issue? Why do I work where I do? Why do I believe what I believe?
While we author our own stories through the choices we make everyday, we also exist in the middle of much larger tales - the story of a people, an era, a place. These are the stories that build collective identity around shared experience. Who are we as Michiganders, as GVSU Lakers, as members of a particular worldview community? What are our shared values? What do those collective identities compel us to care about?
Interfaith happens at the intersection of these stories. We come from different traditions, faiths, and cultures, and rather than retreat from these differences, interfaith asks us all to stand and listen to the tales of others, to hold and honor them, to grow from what we hear, and to share our own in equal measure. To be an effective leader in an interfaith space is to lift up the possibility of true collaboration while honoring and maintaining individual distinctiveness. It’s a tall order, one that ultimately finds a sure footing when our stories of personal calling and of our collective needs are made explicit.
But weaving together the multitude of moments we’ve experienced into a coherent and intentional narrative does not always come naturally. Nor does the ability to truly hear the story of the person sitting across from you, especially when the stakes of such a conversation feel so high. Those skills must be developed.
This year, Kaufman’s Interfaith Leadership Cohorts will explore the nuances, challenges, and joys of crafting their stories together. By relying on Marshall Ganz’s work on public narrative, we will link the power of story to the work of interfaith leadership. Through our interfaith learning communities, our students will be encouraged to see themselves as not only authors of their “story of self,” but as agents of change. For once we come together in community, creating a “story of us” where individual experiences are uplifted while shared values and needs are articulated, then we can ask the question: how can these powerful stories help us meet the urgency of the moment? This is our “story of now.”
To quote Ganz, “Storytelling is how we interact with each other about values; how we share experiences with each other, counsel each other, comfort each other, and inspire each other to action.” The crucial work of interfaith begins with articulating those story moments of challenge and choice, fear and hope. By doing so, we extend an empathetic bridge to the person across from us and lay the foundation for genuine connection. In sharing our stories, understanding grows not from agreement, but from the courage to witness each other's humanity.
Permanent link for 'By Closing the Door, You Create the Room' | By Zahabia Ahmed-Usmani, Youth Program Manager on April 15, 2025
One of my most poignant memories of undergrad was living in the dorms and adjusting to life with the uber wealthy at a private liberal arts college. Being the daughter of Pakistani immigrant parents, my daily rhythms of living were so different from those that I would now spend my days and nights with. One of my most salient memories was eating in our dining hall, which at Scripps, my college, was in each dorm. I remember how awkward I felt even using the knife and fork because I was accustomed to eating with my right hand, as most people from the Indian subcontinent do. I felt uncultured, unmannered, out of place, unworthy– an impostor. Why was I there, and did I belong? At the risk of dating myself, the 90s were not a time when people were open to learning about what made you unique and how you did not fit into Wonderbread America; it was a much more judgmental time. I spent those years of undergrad observing, learning, soaking in the mannerisms, the spoken and unspoken as a dogged anthropologist. One of the things I absorbed is what it felt like to feel acutely excluded. I can now spot the people who linger on the periphery of gatherings, looking at those comfortably mixing and mingling, because I was them - and in some cases, I still am. I’m grateful to work with a team of people at Kaufman who strive to ensure that everyone feels included and welcome in our spaces.
In The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters, Priya Parker explains that the reason we gather should be rooted in purpose to the extent that we “make purpose your bouncer.” At Kaufman, we try to create intentional spaces rooted in purpose. The folks that are included are those who fulfill that purpose and are intentionally invited. While we create these containers to gather in and wonder about if we have done so well, moments of awe happen along the way that remind us that not all learning is programmed and not all growth can be measured.
One of those moments happened a couple of weeks ago. Our Interfaith Leadership Scholars are quickly approaching the end of their program. For this year’s project, they are hosting an interactive dialogue centered on worldview identity and mental health. They have curated this project from start to finish using the leadership skills they developed during the first semester. (We cannot wait to show you the fruits of their labor in May!) Our last working meeting took place during Ramadan, so we ran through the logistics of the event and came back to our office to debrief. As we wrapped up, the topic shifted to the students asking me about how Ramadan was going. A Jewish Scholar mentioned that she loved watching Muslim TikTok and learned from a “revert” influencer about Tahajjud prayers. My mind was blown! What? Muslim TikTok? “Revert”? She knows what Tahajjud prayers are? There are Muslims who don’t know what that is! A Sikh student chimed in, “I like following an influencer that does ASMR of her praying in different places. I find the whispering of the Quran really relaxing.” Once again, these moments of holy envy for me were just awe inspiring. How am I finding out about this at our last official working meeting with this group? Did it take the whole year of us doing the “work” together to get to the point of us then sharing these intersections, or did the intersections happen because we had done the “work” together? I looked around at the Sikh, Christian, Hindu, Atheist, Muslim, and Humanist students and realized that while we were still in the process of nailing down what the exact definition of the Scholars program is, we have successfully created a container that activates the potential of these diverse identities in a way that is transformative.
Thinking back to the times when I felt and feel like an outsider makes me value so much the time when I have been consciously seen. Creating these third spaces or containers of interactions requires initiative. M. Hasna Maznavi, a family friend and Muslim woman who took the initiative to found the first ever Women’s Mosque of America, passed away two weeks ago at the young age of 39. While in California, I was able to attend her funeral, where I saw the impact this young woman had in creating a space where people who often felt voiceless were empowered to grow in knowledge, with the goal of transforming the other spaces they occupied. This mosque did not start without resistance and misunderstanding. She, however, persisted by explaining the intentions of the space she sought to create, the reason it was needed, the purpose it served, and the benefits it provided among the Muslim institutional landscape. Parker would say, “By closing the door, you create the room.” The mosque is valuable in who it excludes because it empowers and uplifts those who are typically invisible. In Hasna’s own words, the goal of the Women’s Mosque was to “create a middle ground that appeals to all Muslim women from the conservative to the liberal, with the ultimate goal to uplift the entire Ummah [broader Muslim community] by empowering Muslim women.” As we move towards creating spaces of inclusion, may we remember to practice radical welcome bounded by intentional purpose.
Permanent link for What Did You Inherit? What Will You Bequeath? | By Kyle Kooyers, Director of Operations on April 15, 2025
Heritage and Legacy.
These are powerful words. They are words that convey identity, belonging, and worth. They are the culmination of all that has been and will be passed down from one generation to the next. As such, there's much ado about both of them.
We might think of the pride taken in having a certain family name, long standing traditions that mark a deep sense of belonging, or precious assets that are inherited or bequeathed creating somewhat of a sense of eternal presence or impact. Perhaps, in terms of evolutionary biology, we would be wise to consider our genetic traits, the characteristics that have been passed down to us and that enable us to thrive as beings that are both uniquely and uniformly human. There's something beautiful in that sacred paradox.
But sacredness also has a heritage and legacy of its own. Just like the handing down of precious heirlooms or the passing on of our eye color, aspects of our ancestors’ spirituality come to us even if we don't recognize it or identify with “religion” as they did. It forms who we are: the community we call home, the land we belong to, the customs we maintain, the values we uphold, and the way we engage with our neighbor. It's the generational roadmap and guidebook for being uniquely and uniformly human.
At the 2023 Parliament of the World's Religions in Chicago, I was able to attend a session in which our neighbors from Kalamazoo, the Fetzer Institute, shared about their recent study, “Sharing Spiritual Heritage.’ You can read that report and watch a short video featuring former Kaufman Staff member, Katie Gordon. The report states, “Faith traditions hold historical, familial, geographic, and spiritual lineages. What are the practices being handed down to others? Who are the teachers, elders, and prophets who have held those practices? Lineage is something to be carried from the past to now and on to future generations. The now becomes an intermediary between what has been and what will be.”
Just as we are a wonderful amalgamation of the spiritual traits of our ancestors - beliefs, belonging, behaviors, bodies, the ends we strive for and the persons we seek to become - we are also those responsible for passing on or bequeathing aspects of that sacred kaleidoscope of heritage to our descendants, or the future generations who will inherit our legacy. What do we dream for them? What do we hope for them? What do we pray for them?
As we dwell in the “intermediary of the now,” we have the opportunity to look back at what has been - that which we have inherited for better or worse - with gratitude or with a discerning lens to see perhaps where pruning is needed to allow for future flourishing. To that end, in that same “now,” we have the opportunity to look forward to what will be - to who will be - with hope, wonder, and expectation that our legacy will endow humanity with a greater capacity to love and respect their divine, their neighbor, and their planet.
What is your Spiritual Heritage? What will be your Spiritual Legacy?
What did you inherit? What will you bequeath?
You are invited to join us for a two-part Interfaith Tuesday Table Talk, where we will lean into this conversation of Unpacking Spiritual Heritage and Exploring Spiritual Legacy. The first will be on the evening of May 13, 2025 and the second on the evening September 30, 2025. More information and registration can be found on the Kaufman Website. Come and hear from intergenerational multifaith voices and share your own as we delve into the past, present, and future of our spirituality over a delicious dinner at Dominican Center Marywood. We hope to see you there!
Permanent link for Finding Spaces of Unity in Times of Division | By Molly Schless, Vice President of the Interfaith Student Council on April 14, 2025
I have been in the interfaith world for about 6 years. What keeps me in this field is the various people I get to meet and learn from. Especially in the world today, there tends to be a "us vs them" mentality. If something is different or even just unknown, it is inherently bad. That is why it is more important than ever to seek spaces where others are willing to let go of any preconceived notions and - even if just for a few hours - remember that we are all human. This past month in March, I had the opportunity to enter two spaces of deep learning and even deeper intergrowth.
GVSU had its first ever Multicultural Night this year. The concept was based on Campus Life Night, an event that happens at the beginning of the year where students can come to see different student organizations offered on campus. Multicultural Night had a similar structure, but was different in the way that it intentionally created a space where people could learn about all the different cultures represented at GVSU. Every booth also had some sort of interactive component, as well. Sometimes that meant trying food from someone’s culture, engaging in an art project, or seeing visual representations. Throughout the night, various students got to see all the booths, participate in a craft, and meet each other. It was an amazing night of laughter, learning, and building connections. I represented Hillel, the Jewish student organization, along with three other members. I also got to represent the Interfaith Student Council, which is a new student organization this year that was founded to bring different students from religious, spiritual, and secular backgrounds together. The energy in the room was ecstatic, and it was so exciting to see fellow students not only willing but eager to learn about something so special to me: my Judaism. One of my favorite moments of the night came at the end when one of my fellow Hillel members had the biggest smile on her face, lighting up as she told me how much fun she had. Throughout the night, she had gotten to teach others about her culture and in return learn about theirs. This was a common theme I noticed throughout the whole event. People who might not even have met were now joking and exchanging contact info to stay connected. As someone who has gotten to experience the beauty of interfaith, it was uplifting for me to see others experience it for the first time. That night proved to me that others do want to make the world a better place and spaces like these are a good place to start.
The next event was Kaufman's yearly Rabbi Sigal Interfaith Leadership Lecture with Syda Taylor. I went into this space not knowing as much as I did about the Multicultural Night. The lecture ended up being an extremely meaningful and impactful space to be a part of. She spoke on unity in diversity, how much we can learn from each other, and how important it is to accept others for who they are. Throughout the lecture, I noticed the people around me were actively engaged in what she was saying . At one point, my neighbor even turned to me saying they had goosebumps. I had a very similar experience, finding myself being more and more moved as she continued to speak. What made this lecture different for me than any other that I had attended before was the importance and relevance of this kind of conversation. It was one of positivity and acceptance in a world where every time you turn on the news, a story of division is in the headlines. Something else that I appreciate about Syda herself is her ability to be authentic and genuine. A lot of past lectures I have attended, especially in the college setting, have been filled with facts and academic language. Although there is value in using both of those tactics for me, I found it refreshing to hear the personal stories and experiences Syda integrated into her lecture. I felt as though it allowed me to have a deeper understanding of the messages she was trying to get across. The main thing I learned from this lecture was that you can focus on everything bad that is going on around you, but if you look for it you will find the good in anything.
Overall, both of these spaces filled me with so much energy and inspiration. This year has brought a lot of ups and downs, but coming to events such as Multicultural Night or Syda’s lecture brought me so much joy. I plan to continue to seek and engage with spaces that find unity in times of division.
Molly Schless
Molly asking a question at Syda's lecture
Molly, Chloe, and Liz setting up at Multicultural Night
Permanent link for Convergence | By Zahabia Ahmed-Usmani, Youth Program Manager on March 18, 2025
Ramadan 2025 began with a request.
A friend of mine, who is an elementary Spanish teacher at my daughter’s charter school, asked me for tips on how to support elementary school students who were fasting in observance of the holy month. Ironically, that very day, the Kaufman staff was asked by the University to help guide professors and staff on how to support students observing Ramadan. Upon completing the assignment for my daughter’s school, I realized the Baha’i fast was also starting at the same time as Ramadan and that Lent would start mid-month. With Ramadan falling in this season, we happen to see this overlap, so I expanded my guidance to draw connections to interfaith considerations for all the traditions with special observances during this time, as well.
Having taken care of that business, I sat there for a moment thinking, this was my third child going to this school, now on the verge of completing middle school. I know of at least ten other Muslim students who had attended the same elementary school, and no one had ever asked about accommodating fasting practices so that a child did not need to sit in the lunch room while their friends ate lunch.
So, why now?
Next, my dear non-Muslim friend told me about her freshman son who was fasting the whole month in solidarity with two of his really good Mulsim friends. All of my children have had friends who have fasted with them for all or part of the month. As an interfaith practitioner, I have struggled to understand this type of “fasting with”, wondering if this is cultural appropriation or misguided solidarity because the practice of fasting as a Muslim is rooted in our core beliefs and practices. Each Ramadan season that passes, I see more and more non-Muslims posting about fasting during the month of Ramadan. I have heard Christians say that they fast during Ramadan because they don’t have a “submissive practice to God,” so the Ramadan fast seems to inspire that in them. Take, for example, my friend, a pastor and community leader who is working to stamp out gender-based violence. She was inspired to use prayer beads to offer Christian prayers five times a day with her worldwide community from South Africa to West Michigan during the season of Lent.
Where is this convergence of practices coming from? How do we ultimately find the divine and draw closer to what is holy? Who is to say that my prescription for that is the only correct formula?
As my friend’s son runs track, fasts in a household of non-fasters, and takes that first sip or bite of food at sundown, who am I to say that his experience is not sacred? Especially considering how much he inspires me by eliminating all music during Ramadan as well - something a lot of Muslims cannot even say.
As my social media feed fills up with divisiveness, polarization, and fear, I choose to feel inspired by these moments of convergence.
Earlier today, students from Jenison High School visited the Kaufman Institute offices to learn about interfaith engagement and how to enter sacred sites with humility and understanding before they embarked on visits to Temple Emanuel and Masjid Al Tawheed. These students engaged in a variety of interactive activities, including defining religion, and mapping their own religious, spiritual, or secular identities, and values. Leaving behind their comfort zone, the students challenged themselves to express ideas that they were exploring in a brave space they co-created with their peers at GVSU and co-led by an Interfaith Leadership Scholar who happened to be a student in the group!
Whether it’s self-discipline, spiritual discipline, or simply engaging with a respectful understanding of our neighbors' practices, this embodied work can help us build familiarity with each other’s traditions. As Naw-Ruz (Baha’i New Year) approaches, as well as the last ten days of Ramadan, the most sacred of the month, I am inspired by these youth who enable me to reimagine my tomorrow. They show us glimmers of Kaufman’s mission fulfilled: belonging and equity for persons of all religious, secular, and spiritual identities, with human connection, interfaith understanding, and collective transformation happening through these moments of convergence.
Posted on Permanent link for Convergence | By Zahabia Ahmed-Usmani, Youth Program Manager on March 18, 2025.